The enduring charm of the Bangalore Derby

  

When Racing Authority and Criticism Collide

 

By Sharan Kumar

 

Indian racing has a long history of professionals crossing swords with those who run the sport. Some disputes ended in the courts, some in compromise and some became part of racing folklore.

 

There is something rather intriguing about the Royal Western India Turf Club. India became independent nearly eight decades ago, yet the word “Royal” remains comfortably embedded in the name of one of the country's most important racing institutions. The old British race names, the Guineas, the Oaks and the Derby, have survived too, as have some of the old dress conventions. There is nothing wrong with preserving traditions. Racing, perhaps more than most sports, is built around history and tradition.

 

What is more difficult to understand is another tradition, one that has nothing to do with horses: the apparent sensitivity of racing authorities to criticism and the tendency, on occasions, to regard criticism of those in charge as criticism of the institution itself.

 

This is hardly a new phenomenon. Indian racing history is full of instances in which trainers, jockeys, owners and even people who have themselves served on racing committees have found themselves on the opposite side of the Stewards. Some disputes were forgotten, while others became important chapters in the history of the sport. Several found their way into the courts.

 

One of the most fascinating examples concerns Rashid Byramji, who went on to become one of the greatest trainers in Indian racing. Byramji had been associated with the RWITC but eventually fell out with the authorities over remarks attributed to him that appeared in a publication and regarded as critical of the Stewards. He was asked to apologise but refused.

There was, however, an important distinction in Byramji's version of events. When I spoke to him about the episode, he told me that he had refused to apologise because he had not made the remarks attributed to him. In his view, he was being asked to apologise for something he had never said. The Stewards nevertheless proceeded against him and he was effectively driven out of Mumbai racing.

 

Byramji subsequently moved his base to Bangalore, and the rest became racing history. Bangalore gave him the opportunity to race his horses at various centres across the country and he went on to build an extraordinary national reputation. He eventually saddled 230 Classic winners, including 10 Indian Derby winners and 12 Indian Turf Invitation Cup winners. A disciplinary action that ended his association with Mumbai did not end his career; it coincided with the making of one of the greatest training careers India has seen.

 

There was another observation Byramji made to me which has remained in my mind. He felt that the Stewards had too much power and said that, if they did not like your face, they could refuse to give you a licence. It was a colourful expression, typical of Byramji, but behind it was a serious concern about the dependence of trainers and jockeys on licences controlled by the very authorities with whom they might disagree. His own experience gave that concern some context.

 

Pesi Shroff's history with racing authorities is equally interesting because it involved more than one club. Shroff was banned by the RWITC after an article in the press which was considered critical of the Stewards.

 

What makes the episode particularly interesting is what happened when another racing club later suspended Shroff. When the Madras Race Club took disciplinary action against him, the RWITC itself protested and refused to implement the suspension. The matter eventually reached the Supreme Court before a compromise was arrived at. The same institution that had disciplined Shroff was therefore, on another occasion, prepared to defend him against another racing authority.

 

There have been several other examples. Former RWITC chairman K. N. Dhunjibhoy took the club to court after his trainer was suspended in a case involving the alleged dilution of a urine sample. The Thumbelina case was another unusual episode. Thumbelina had won the Indian 1000 Guineas, but the result became embroiled in a disciplinary dispute. Vijay Shirke, himself a Steward now, challenged the decision and the matter eventually reached the courts, with Thumbelina being restored the race.

 

Pradeep Chouhan also challenged his suspension in court during his days as a jockey and the matter was eventually resolved through an amicable settlement. Jockey Aslam Kader's case followed a newspaper article criticising one of his rides as questionable. His licence was subsequently restored, but only after he had spent considerable time on the sidelines. Suraj Narredu had earlier been suspended in Mumbai after being accused of taking an unnecessarily long lead and losing the race. The suspension prevented him from riding Super Storm in the Indian Derby, which the horse subsequently won. Narredu later challenged a separate six-month suspension in Bangalore after his horse was beaten by a short head. He obtained a stay, although by then much of the suspension had already been served, limiting the practical benefit.

 

These episodes also explain why the number of cases that reached court may not tell the whole story. For a trainer or jockey whose livelihood depends upon a licence, taking on the establishment is not an easy decision. There has been an apprehension among professionals that challenging the authorities could create difficulties later, and some have therefore preferred to serve their punishment rather than enter into a prolonged legal battle.

 

None of this means that every professional punished by the Stewards was right, or that every disciplinary action was unjustified. Racing needs strong regulatory authority. Rules are meaningless without somebody capable of enforcing them. But such power carries a corresponding responsibility to follow due process and natural justice. A trainer's or jockey's licence is his livelihood, and a suspension can keep a professional out of work for months. A disqualification can also affect owners, trainers, breeders and jockeys and alter the result of an important race.

 

That is why the present discussion at the RWITC needs to be seen against this longer history.

 

Former chairman Vivek Jain, speaking at the recent Annual General Meeting, raised questions about the club's functioning and democratic processes, including the absence of elections for several years, electronic voting, voter identification and the desirability of members physically attending the AGM. He also questioned attendance at committee meetings and the difficulties in getting Stewards to attend race meetings at Pune.

 

Whether every suggestion is practical is another matter. But questions about the functioning of an institution are legitimate subjects for its members. If the electronic voting system is secure, that can be explained. If attendance at committee meetings is satisfactory, the figures can demonstrate it. If there are adequate Stewards available for race meetings, that too can be established.

An institution does not necessarily protect its reputation by objecting to criticism. Quite often, it protects its reputation by answering criticism with facts.

This becomes particularly important when the expression “bringing the club into disrepute” is used. If interpreted too broadly, almost any serious criticism of management can be described as damaging the institution. A member questioning an election, a journalist questioning a disciplinary decision or a trainer challenging a suspension could all potentially be accused of harming racing. The danger is that criticism itself then becomes the offence rather than the conduct being criticised.

 

There was an interesting example some years ago involving the internationally respected racing authority James Underwood. He was banned from entering the premises of the RWITC after being critical of the functioning of the club. The decision was subsequently withdrawn after some members of the Managing Committee reportedly expressed their disapproval. It was a reminder that even within a governing body there can be recognition that a response to criticism has gone too far.

 

Such episodes do little to enhance the image of those occupying positions of authority. If anything, they reinforce the impression that the people running an institution can sometimes be more sensitive to criticism than the institution itself needs to be. The RWITC is too important a part of Indian racing for legitimate criticism to be treated automatically as an attack on its reputation.

 

The history of Indian racing provides enough examples of why such an approach can be counterproductive. Byramji went on to establish one of the greatest training records in Indian racing. Pesi Shroff continued to build an extraordinary career despite his battles with racing authorities. Thumbelina's result was restored, while other professionals have had suspensions reduced, licences restored or disputes settled. The courts have, on several occasions, become the place where the limits of racing authority were tested.

 

That does not mean the racing authorities were acting in bad faith, nor that every professional who went to court was automatically correct. It does demonstrate, however, that disciplinary decisions in racing cannot be assumed to be beyond scrutiny.

 

Racing clubs occupy a peculiar position because they combine sport, business, social organisation and regulation. Those who run them are simultaneously members, administrators and regulators. That concentration of authority makes internal checks and democratic participation particularly important.

 

The RWITC has a remarkable history and its traditions are part of the attraction of Indian racing. There is no reason for the club to abandon them. But tradition should not become a justification for resisting accountability. The present generation of professionals and members is far more willing to question decisions, while newspapers, websites and social media ensure that such questions can no longer remain within the club's corridors.

 

The sensible response is greater transparency rather than greater sensitivity. When a member raises an uncomfortable question at an AGM, it can be answered. When a journalist questions a decision, the reasoning can be explained. When a professional challenges a disciplinary order, the prescribed appeal process can take its course.

 

The RWITC has survived for well over a century because it has adapted to enormous changes in Indian society and racing. Its name can remain Royal, the Guineas and Oaks can continue to be run, the Derby can remain the centrepiece and the traditional dress can survive where the club wishes it to. But the institution itself operates in a modern environment in which criticism is not necessarily an act of hostility.

 

Indian racing will inevitably continue to have disagreements between professionals and authorities. That is not necessarily a sign of a failing institution. What matters is whether those disagreements can be handled without turning criticism into confrontation. The history of Byramji, Shroff, Thumbelina and the many others who have challenged disciplinary decisions suggests that this has always been one of the more difficult balances for Indian racing to achieve.